A Dance of Arrows
by AbsolutelyDisgusting
Summary: To pass the time while travelling, Lamb tells Wolf a story. A one-shot starring Kindred.


**Author's Note: If you've made it this far to be reading this, thanks for stopping by! This is the first piece of fanfiction I've ever written, and for my favorite champion, Kindred. This is based on the old lore. If you enjoyed it, or otherwise would like to leave a comment/criticism, feel free to post a review. Enjoy!**

* * *

The mid-day sun cast golden waves of light down into the forest below. Soft rays twice filtered by clouds and the forest's canopy threw dancing shadows over an overgrown path marred by years of neglect; holes and tall grass pockmarked the broken cobblestones.

This day was unlike the usual comings and goings of this particular forest, however, as though motioned by some unseen conductor, the usually symphonic sounds of the forest hushed to a near whisper. The soft clip-clopping of cloven hooves could be heard through the muffled ambiance. Two figures navigated their way down the beaten path. The most eye-catching one was a small white creature. Though bipedal, its features greatly resembled a sheep. The creature's face was hidden behind a carved ebony mask, whose eye sockets glowed with a ghostly blue light in the forest's shadowed undergrowth. An ornate, silver-blue bow was clutched in the creature's right hand.

A dark shadow snaked through the air behind the white "sheep." It too wore a mask, though unlike its ebony counterpart, was a dull white. Its eyes, and strangely enough, its wide mouth also glowed with a pale ethereal light behind many teeth. The most striking thing about it, however, is that the shadowy thing lacked any means of conventional locomotion and simply floated in the air.

"Hurry Lamb, faster!" Growled the shadow beast. "I am growing bored."

The white one, Lamb, regarded her shadowy companion. "Patience, my dear Wolf. We will arrive accordingly."

Wolf barked and snapped his jaws towards a small squirrel that was unlucky enough to cross his path. The squirrel chittered and dashed away. "I am hungry, Lamb." The Wolf grumbled. "Perhaps if I were to have a quick snack..."

Lamb shook her head. "You are always hungry Wolf." She gave her bow a twirl. "It is not our duty to take a life before its time. We do not bring death, death brings us."

Wolf grunted. He did not like that answer, but he could not defy the natural order of things. The two continued their trek through the woods. A cool breeze delivered all kinds of scents towards the ethereal hunter. The Wolf examined his surroundings. Prey all around, but nothing yet to hunt. He yawned, showing off his impressive teeth "Tell me a story, little Lamb."

"There was once a pale man with dark hair who was very lonely."

"You have told that one before, many times."

Lamb huffed. Tapping the chin of her mask with her free hand, she thought about the countless stories she had heard throughout countless lifetimes. Kindred was as old as history itself and had traveled across every corner of the continent known as Valoran many times. Kings and peasants, heroes and villains alike had all met their end before Kindred. "What kind of story would you like for me to tell, dear Wolf?"

"Make it exciting, and let there be chasing! I like chasing."

Smiling gently underneath her mask, Lamb giggled, a sound akin to Snowdown bells. "Very well dear Wolf, I may have something in mind."

* * *

 _"Not very long ago, there was conflict in Valoran. The island continent of Ionia was in the midst of a seemingly unprovoked invasion by the city-state of Noxus..."_

The countryside of Navori province might one had been idyllic; grassy meadows and small cottages modeled in traditional, simple Ionian architecture. The devastated landscape before them, however, was a twisted mockery of what had once been. Fires burned, filling the air thick with smoke and the stench of infernal Zaunite chemistry. Distant shouting and the clashing of steel rang from the local temple, Ionian countrymen taking arms to defend their homeland. Patrols of Noxian soldiers clad in stygian iron searched the countryside, killing and plundering at their leisure.

Ionia had lacked any sort of traditional standing army, as the League of Legends, whose purpose was to oversee any conflict between the city-states and keep the balance of power in check, had provided a kind of safety net that put the minds of the people of Valoran at ease. The war-torn land and smoldering villages had shown the foolishness of the League's empty promises.

The Kindred were no strangers to war. It was as ancient as the Kindred themselves. Lamb took no pleasure in her role on the battlefield. She did not see herself as an evil thing, her duty in granting peace to the dead was a necessity. Wolf, on the other hand, absolutely reveled in the carnage. Howling and barking, he was there with every charge of the cavalry, every rain of arrows, and every chemical weapon's detonation. Wolf was not unnecessarily cruel, however. He hunted because he needed to. It was his purpose amongst creation. His carnivorous nature was a cosmic balance to Lamb's temperance, thus completing the opposite ends of the Kindred.

" _This is a good story,_ _Lamb! Did I chase them until they were dead?"_

 _"Hush Wolf, we're getting there."_

The sun was beginning to set over the ashes of the small village. The evening light flooded the land with a blood red, which only served to represent the spilled blood of the Ionian countrymen slaughtered by Noxian forces. An eerie silence befell the land as the fighting died down to a quiet rumbling in the distance as the Noxians advanced towards the Ionian capital.

A soft twang from Lamb's bow sends the last dying Ionian swordsman into rest. It was a hallmark of the Ionians to choose her bow over Wolf's hunt, Lamb thought to herself, a stark contrast to the hot-blooded Noxians who often chose to try and outrun the Wolf, though none yet proved successful.

 _"Haha! It's funny because they're all dead!"_

The Kindred survey the scene of battle. An overwhelming Noxian victory. For every Noxian that had been run down by Wolf, eight Ionians found peace by Lamb's arrow.

"Come now dear Wolf, we are needed elsewhere, and I sense much work will be awaiting us come morning." Lamb chimed to her companion, who was preoccupied with rolling around in the scuffed dirt.

Wolf bounces up, four legs materializing out of the tendrils of smoke that make up his lower body. "I'll race you there!"

In a flash, Wolf bounds away into the night. Lamb chuckles to herself at Wolf's playfulness. _He is indistinguishable from a dog when he is satisfied_.

 _"I am not."_

 _"Yes, you are."_

 _"Nuh-uh"_

 _"Yeah-huh"_

Collecting her bow, Lamb begins to wander off after her brother. A piercing scream resonating from the ruins of the village piques her attention, however. Deciding that a minor detour will not throw her off schedule, Lamb heads off to investigate.

...

Lamb traces the source of the scream to a seemingly abandoned house near the outskirts of the village. It was an unassuming abode, traditional Ionian gardens and large windows allowed for natural light to illuminate the home, rather than the modern electrical hextech lights found in Piltover and Zaun. Lamb did not like them, they hurt her eyes.

Her sensitive ears could hear muffled sounds emanating from within. Becoming ethereal, Lamb stepped through the door and examined the inside of the house. It was in shambles, clay pots and pans lay shattered across the floor, long tapestries written in Ionia's flowing language hung in tatters, and furniture was tipped over and broken into pieces.

What truly caught Lamb's attention, however, was the band of Noxian deserters, if the quality of their gear was any indication, pinning an older Ionian man down to the floor, taking turns beating him either with their fists or assorted debris.

Another man stood off to the side, restraining a young girl who could not have been older than fifteen.

The man on the floor winces as he takes another blow to the stomach. "You cowards! Let me stand and defend my honor!" His only response is a sharp kick to the ribs "Cowards!"

Lamb watches the unfolding scene from her invisible perspective with increasing curiosity. It appears as if the bandits were using the chaos to their advantage, scavenging the abandoned village. This house was significantly less abandoned than the others, as it seemed.

"Father!" screamed the girl, she struggled in the bandit's grasp, before delivering a swift blow with her elbow to the man's side.

"Ow! Son of a..." He spins around and slams the girl against the wall, much to the enragement of the man on the floor.

"I'll kill you, you hear me! You're dead, you're all-" The father's words were cut off with a soft gurgling noise. One of the bandits had run his sword through the man's chest.

At the sight of this, the girl becomes hysterical, thrashing and kicking in the bandit's grip. In response, the man knocks her over the head. The girl falls to the floor in a heap.

This was too much. Lamb was not an evil thing, to not act is to be reduced to the same level as the bandits. Focusing her will, time slows to a halt for everyone in the room with the exception of Lamb and the man bleeding out on the floor.

Approaching him, Lamb grabs a hold of his shoulders and eases him into a sitting position. With a finger, she drew a runic circle on his forehead. The Mark of the Kindred. Groaning, the man groggily opens his eyes.

At the sight of Lamb's ebony mask, the man's shaky breath catches in his throat. Stammering an ancient Ionian prayer of protection, he bows his head as a sign of respect.

"Ina, spirit of death, may you grant me your swiftest arrow to the next life."

Lamb shakes her head. "Not here, not yet."

The runes inscribed by Lamb on the man's head surge with a pale light. His wounds begin to close, and his heartbeat can be felt once more.

"I grant you my Respite, dear soul. Do not waste it."

Laying the man back down, he lies still, this time not in death, but a recovering sleep. The time for intervention has come. Lamb makes her appearance to the room in an ethereal burst of energy that throws the bandits are thrown back by an unseen force.

The first bandits back on their feet are filled with a sense of awe and dread as they gaze upon the full view of Lamb.

To the Noxians, Lamb appeared as a hawk-like burning angel of vengeance, her wooly mane replaced by what could only be described as shadowfire, bow glowing with righteous fury.

 _ **"**_ _ **Leave now."**_

Lamb had never in her existence seen a group of men turn and run quite as fast as that. Lamb eyes the unconscious Ionians. _Maybe they will think this was all a dream?_ She thought to herself.

This was enough detours for one day, she decided, as she too embarked to join her other half in their duties.

* * *

"That was a nice story Lamb, but if it were up to me I would have chased the bandit-things until they could run no more."

Lamb patted Wolf on the head. "I'm certain that you would, dear Wolf." She glances around and recognizes their surroundings.

Tall grass loomed up ahead of the duo, turning to address Wolf, Lamb speaks. "We've arrived."

Leaping out of the tall grass, Lamb took aim at the figure standing ahead, unaware to the presence of Kindred.

"Now Wolf!"

With a bestial howl, Wolf charged at the enemy just as Lamb's arrow flew straight and true.

* * *

 **"An enemy has been slain, first blood!"**

"Such befalls all who bear our mark."


End file.
